Thus in a nation parties view,
Some this, and others that pursue;
The quarrel has a good effect,
For if these cheat us, those detect;

But should they leagues of friendship strike,
Why then they'd all be rogues alike.

The following Lines were sung by DURASTANTI, when she took her Leave of the English Stage. The Words were in haste put together by Mr. POPE, at the earnest Request of the Earl of PETERBOROW.

G

ENEROUS, gay, and gallant nation,
Bold in arms, and bright in arts;

Land secure from all invasion,

All but Cupid's gentle darts!

From your charms, oh who would run ?
Who would leave you for the sun?
Happy soil, adieu, adieu!
Let old charmers yield to new.

In arms, in arts, be still more shining;

All your joys be still increasing;

All your tastes be still refining;

All your jars for ever ceasing:

But let old charmers yield to new:
Happy soil, adieu, adieu !

A Burlesque of the above Lines, by Dr. ARBUTHNOT

PUPPIES, I now

UPPIES, whom I now am leaving,

Who lavish most when debts are craving,
On fool, and farce, and masquerade!
Who would not from such bubbles run,
And leave such blessings for the sun?

Happy soil, and simple crew!
Let old sharpers yield to new;
All your tastes be still refining;

All
your nonsense still more shining :
Blest in some Berenstad or Roschi,
He more aukward, he more husky;
And never want, when these are lost t'us,
Another Heidegger and Faustus.
Happy soil, and simple crew!
Let old sharpers yield to new!
Bubbles all, adieu, adieu!

A FARE

4 FAREWELL to LONDON in the Year 1714. By Mr. PorE.

(Never published in his Works.)

DEAR

EAR, damn'd, distracting town, farewell!
Thy fools no more I'll teize:

This year in peace, ye critics, dwell,

Ye harlots, sleep at ease!

Soft B and rough C, adieu.

Earl Warwick make your moan,

The lively Hk and you

May knock up w――s alone.

To drink and droll be Rowe allow'd
Till the third watchman toll;
Let Jervase gratis paint, and Frowd
Save three-pence and his soul.
Farewell Arburthnot's raillery
On every learned sot;

And Garth, the best good christian he,
Altho' he knows it, not.

Lintot, farewell! thy bard must go ;
Farewell, unhappy Tonson!
Heaven gives thee, for thy loss of Rowe,
Lean Philips and fat Jolinson.

Why should I stay? Both parties rage;
My vixen mistress squalls;
The wits in envious feuds engage,
And Homer (damn him!) calls.

The love of arts lies cold and dead

In Hallifax's urn;

And not one Muse of all he fed,

Has

yet the

grace to mourn.

Still idle, with a busy air,
Deep whimsies to contrive;
The gayest valetudinaire,
Most thinking rake alive.

Solicitous for others ends,

Tho' fond of dear repose;
Careless or drowsy with my friends,
And frolic with my foes.

Laborious Lobster-nights farewell'
For sober, studious days ;
And Burlington's delicious meal,
For sallads, tarts, and pease.

Adieu to all but Gay alone,

Whose soul, sincere and free,
Love's all mankind, but flatters none,

And so may starve with me.

There, tasting all the bloom of spring,
Wak'd by the rip'ning breath of May,
Th' ungrateful spoiler left his sting,
And with the honey fled away.

4 TRANSLATION of LATIN VERSES. From the ARABIC,

Caithness.

Μ'

Y boy, the glasses hither bring,

Present the balmy treasure ;
More briskly pour it round the ring,
And pour it without measure.
Wine can lovers pangs assuage;
Wine allays the cares of age.

The wine is like to ruddy Sol;

The cup, of hue so mellow,
To portly Cynthia, fair and full,
Courting her lordly fellow.
Brisker reuse the ruddy light
Pour on wine to make it bright.

What though, in beauty's transient hour,
The roses lose their blushing?
Above, the purple nectar pour,
And strow them fresh and flushing.
Let Philomel forsake the grove;
Wine inspires the song of love.

Heed not fortune's scornful frown :
In bumper's drown all sorrow;
Sleep, soon, shall all our wishes crown,
And crown them till to-morrow.
Bring round to me the nectar'd stream,
Wine inspires the golden dream.

How sweet the genial flush of drink!
Larger draughts give larger pleasure?
Sit we till we cease to think

On aught besides our mellow treasure.
My friend be jovial right or wrong,
We'll drink our glass and sing our song.

CHORUS SONG in the Comedy of EASTWARD Ho, revived by the New Name of OLD CITY MANNERS. By Mr. BANNISTER.